Page 21 of Here We Go Again
LOGAN
They are definitely going to kill each other.
“What is that?” Hale shrieks.
“What?” Logan yawns. It’s six in the morning, and Hale is already worked into a snit. They haven’t even made it out of the driveway.
“That!”
Logan follows her outstretched finger toward the van they’re about to drive across the country. “That’s the car, Hale.”
“Thatis the car?” Angry spit gathers in the corners of her mouth. “And it didn’t occur to you that driving that across middle America might be a problem?”
Logan studies the van. Sure, it is on the older side, but Robin assured her it’s in good shape, and she’d taken it in to get serviced earlier in the week, per Hale’s insistence.
Plus, she’d purchased five air fresheners to cover up the smell of mold and patchouli.
“What’s wrong with it, exactly?”
Hale strops forward, her heels smacking against the concrete. Apparently, she is going to drive eight hours today in heels. “Thatis what’s wrong with it.” She slams her hand against the logo painted on the side of the van.
The wordsThe Queer Cuddlerare painted in swooping letters over a giant rainbow.
Oh.That.
“That was the name of her business. The Queer Cuddler.”
Hale takes in a sharp breath through her flared nostrils. “Yes, I gathered as much. Why the hell is it still painted on the side of the van?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Hale does a slow, judgmental strut around the vehicle, shaking her head in a particularly violent fashion when she gets to the back. Which means she probably noticed the “Gayest Ride in Town” bumper sticker.
“Are you starting to understand why I might be upset right now?” Hale hisses.
“I am,” Logan’s dad says from the front porch where he is sipping coffee, ready to see them off. Andrea Hale is beside him in her Smurf scrubs, looking equally bemused.
“Why does it matter if it says a bunch of gay stuff on it?”
“Because we’re driving throughIowa!”
“I’m pretty sure there are gays in Iowa.”
“That’s not the point. It’s a little naïve to think we won’t get any reactions driving this van through ‘Don’t Say Gay’ states.”
“Are you afraid people might think you’re gay by association?”
Logan relishes in the way Hale’s mouth puckers like a cat’s asshole. “That’s not… I’m a… Of course not,” she sputters. “But queer and trans people are hurt for a lot less than this, especially Black and brown queer people. We might have a lot of privilege. We’re white and straight passing—”
“You’re not straight passing, you’re straight,” Logan can’t help but correct.
Hale blinks erratically. “But did you even consider Joe’s safety when you chose this…gay mobile?”
She obviously had not, and she suddenly feels like a total asshole for it. Vista Summit wasn’t the best place to grow up a lesbian in the mid-aughts, but she’s never truly felt unsafe. She’s not sure if Joe can say the same thing.
“We should paint over the logo when we get the chance.” Hale turns back to her mom’s Subaru Forrester and begins unloading her bags from the trunk.Seven. That’s the number of heavy-looking items Hale pulls from the trunk.
Not for the first time in the past week, Logan wonders how the hell she ended up here, agreeing to this ridiculous scheme. But deep down, she knows. It’s because Hale sat on her front porch and let herself be vulnerable. For the first time in years, that perfect veneer slipped a little, and Hale sounded like that earnest, honest girl she’d once loved.
